Ride "T" for Terror

Without the slightest hesitation, Mohan had given a lift to an old man. It was a dark October night and he had quite forgotten that Delhi was no longer a safe place, what with an ever increasing crime rate. The man looked as old as his grandfather, with a white flowing beard and wore a head-gear.

As he drove along the road, Mohan suddenly felt a fierce jab at his back. Instantly he realised it was a knife. The Kalindikunj route connecting Noida and Mayur Vihar to the Mathura Road was annoyingly eerie and was completely deserted at this time. The night suddenly seemed to be really dark. There was absolutely no one in sight to even shout for help. The moon also seemed to have disappeared to allow the terrorist to do his act in peace. And although winter had not yet truly set in, Mohan was beginning to feel exceedingly cold. He had really been quite unprepared for the night and was deeply regretting the lack of warm clothing which would probably have made stabbing a little more difficult.

Reeling under a heady mixture of fear and helplessness, which was as potent as venom, Mohan paid scant heed to the fact that the road was unlit and pothole-ridden as he drove his mobike at break-neck speed. One mistake and his passport to the mystique world would have been ready.

Even as he tried to fight the increasing numbness that was setting in at the feeling that all was lost, his instincts were working overtime. In desperation, he began to switch from the third gear to the fourth so as to make the mobile cough suddenly, and upon impact, throw back the person sitting on the pillion. Simultaneiously, he himself tried to jump on the fuel tank to allow as much distance between the terrorist and he. But within seconds the terrorist was again starting to jab at him and this time with renewed vigour. It sent a shooting pain all the way down his spine.

The cold shivers that had run through him were now turning into hot flushes with sweat forming on his brows and forehead. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he prayed to God sincerely. Suddenly as if his prayers were answered, he realised that they had reached the spot where the man had wanted to get to. Except for the penetrating pain down his spine, nothing untoward had happened so far. As Mohan stopped his bike, the man seemed to be in no hurry to get down. Slowly, Mohan himself got down ready to face whatever that came his way. He looked towards the man on his pillion.

The old man was sitting all cooped up and bent forward with a file held very close to his body. The file had a jarring edge to it.

This is a middle of mine that was published in TOI a few years ago. This was based on a real life incident in my brother's life.